


Little Darling

by Queer_Trash_Queen



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Future Fic, Gen, Post S3, Pregnancy, SO, Spoilers, all of the angst, and then, back at it again with that angst, why can't I just let them be happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2016-11-07
Packaged: 2018-08-29 18:45:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8501143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queer_Trash_Queen/pseuds/Queer_Trash_Queen
Summary: Clarke gets pregnant. It's the end of the world, then it isn't, then it is again. or: someone reminded me that the "Love You Forever" book exists





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another one from my personal prompt list. I feel like Bellamy and Clarke are high key ooc in this, but I don't care because it's a future fic, and who know's how they'll be in five years so

The sun is just beginning to peek over the horizon when Clarke lurches out of bed, running for the bathroom for the third morning in a row. Bellamy is sitting up in bed when she stumbles back to their room, squinting blearily in the early morning dark of their cabin. She slides under the thick fur duvet and wriggles into his side, pressing her cold feet into his calves. He inhales sharply and groans but strokes her hair until she falls back to sleep anyways.

When Clarke wakes next, the sun is higher in the sky and Bellamy’s side of the bed is cold and empty. She sits up and stretches, firmly ignoring the rolling waves of nausea that hit as soon as she woke up. There’s no time for her to come down with anything right now, she’s got a camp to help run. She pulls on her boots and heads out to the clinic, where she knows she has at least a dozen patients waiting.

Her first patient of the day is a little girl called Amelia, one of the first kids born on the ground. Her mother had been pregnant when the Ark landed, and her birth was both a source of great joy and apprehension for everyone. But here she is, four years old and absolutely thriving. Clarke does a quick evaluation and clears her to go back to school after the bad cold she’d caught the week before.

The rest of her day is fairly uneventful, mostly regular checkups and one broken arm. Around sunset, she’s eating dinner in the mess hall with Raven and Monty when there’s a commotion outside. She’s already rising from her seat to check it out when someone bursts into the hall shouting that they need a doctor.

Clarke rushes to the clinic, praying that nothing too bad has happened. They were doing _so_ good, almost three months without incident. When she burst through the doors and sees that they’ve laid Jasper onto one of the exam tables, her heart jumps into her throat. Bellamy separates from the crowd to fill her in.

“He’s alright, Clarke. He fell out of a tree and beaned himself pretty good, might need a couple stitches, but it’s not too bad. I think all the blood freaked them out but head wounds tend to bleed a lot, so I’m not too worried.” She breathes a sigh of relief, but pushes through the people crowding around Jasper to check him out.

Twelve stitches and a good helping of Monty’s moonshine later, Jasper is sent to his cabin with strict orders for rest and a recommendation not to climb trees ever again. Clarke is about to wash her hands when she catches the combined scent of antiseptic and blood. It shouldn’t bother her, is something she’s smelled pretty much every day of her life since her mom started letting her tag along to the medbay. But today, for some reason, it has her hunched over the sink, emptying the contents of her stomach.

Janus, her assistant, casually asks her how far along she is when she’s cleaning herself up, and her heart stops. She’s pretty sure she’s lost all the color in her face, and she’s suddenly feeling faint. Janus helps her to sit down, frantically apologizing the whole time. He thinks that he’s offended her or something, but Clarke is too busy trying to remember her last period and/or the expiration date of her birth control implant. She shakily asks him to get the things she needs for a pregnancy test, but insists she can do it herself. She ends up shooing Janus out the door, against his (probably rightly concerned) protests.

She can’t remember the last time she had her period. One of the side effects of living in space is irregularity, even before the birth control implant that everyone gets at sixteen. And then between her father dying and coming to the ground and establishing a community there… it’s safe to say that between stress and her implant, it’s been a while.

The few minutes she waits for the results feel like the longest in her life. She weighs her options while she waits. It’s not like there’s a way to abort if she is pregnant, that’s one thing they haven’t figured out on the ground, mostly because they’re trying to encourage repopulation but also because most of the women and men still have functioning implants.  It’s probably just a stomach bug from one of her patients anyways, or her stomach is sensitive to the new meat they’re eating (Octavia brought home a weird sort of fox-badger combination after the last hunting trip, and the meat _had_ tasted a little off).

Finally, she summons up the courage to look at the results of both the urine and blood tests. It feels like the end of the world - which is dramatic, even for her, because she’s literally faced the end of the world at least twice, so.

/./

Bellamy returns home from work to find Clarke waiting apprehensively on the edge of their bed, wearing a look he hasn’t seen since their first year on the ground, but also looking like she’s on the verge of tears. Clarke doesn’t do tears, so he knows something is serious. He drops his pack and kneels down in front of her, taking her hands into his own.

“Hey, what’s wrong? Is it Abby? Did something happen to her?” She shakes her head, won’t look him in the eyes. He’s really starting to worry now. He can’t think of anything that would upset her this much.

“Please don’t hate me,” she says softly, and now he’s freaking out. He doesn’t let it show, because he knows that’s not what she needs right now. But she’s genuinely scaring him.

“Clarke, baby, what happened? I just saw you a few hours ago and you were fine. Did someone hurt you? Did you hurt someone? I can’t help you fix it unless you tell me what’s wrong,” he’s totally gone into crisis mode, his voice gentle and soothing, the way it used to get when he was coaxing Octavia back under the floor.

She gives him a long winded, rambling, half mumbled response about how she doesn’t want to burden him with this, because she knows it’s happened before, and she knows he loves O, but he also kinda resents her, deep down, and she doesn’t want that to happen here, she doesn’t want him to resent her, but there’s not really a way to stop it if it’s already this far gone. It’s safe to say he’s fairly confused when she finished with “I’m sorry Bell, I’m so sorry, please don’t hate me, please.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Princess. Why would I hate you? What’s happened before? I need you to take deep breaths and explain it to me, baby.” She lets out a choked sob at that, and he’s not sure why. Once she’s started though, it’s like the floodgates have opened, and she’s hysterically sobbing. He doesn’t know what to do, so he sits on their bed, pulls her into his lap, and holds her and strokes her hair until her sobs peter out into pathetic little hiccups and heaving breaths.

“I’m pregnant, Bellamy,” she says so quietly he’s not quite sure he’s heard her right. He’s confused, because no, they’re not ready for a kid, but they’ve been together for three years, partners for five. A baby wouldn’t be the end of the world. They always say no one’s ever ready anyways, that there is no right time.

“That’s what this is about? Clarke, why would I hate you for this? I mean, I’m terrified but it’s going to be okay. It’s you and me, we can tackle anything, right?” She sighs heavily and then laughs a little hysterically.

“I thought you would resent me. You didn’t have a choice in this, I didn’t want it to be like Octavia all over again. I just…I was scared, Bell. I _am_ scared. But of course you take it with a grain of salt,” she gives another teary laugh. He understands where she got the idea, but this isn’t going to be anything like his mother deciding to secretly have a second child aboard a space station. He had a part in this, a choice. Pregnancy was always a vague risk, one he figured they would deal with together if it ever came up. And now it has.

“Clarke, this isn’t going to be like that at all, I promise. My mother forcing her six-year-old son to raise his illegal sister is _not_ the same as us getting pregnant three years into a relationship. Sure, it’s unplanned, but honestly I figured we’d get here at some point. It’s just a little sooner than I thought,” he says. She sniffles and rests her head on his shoulder.

“This is just…terrifying. It’s scarier than anything we’ve ever faced, and I’m including both the potential nuclear meltdown and Raven when Murphy tried to tell her she couldn’t do things because of her leg.” He chuckles a little at that, because there’s the Clarke he knows. “I have to grow a _person_ inside of me Bellamy. _A whole person_. And I wasn’t planning on ever having kids, because is this really the kind of world I want to bring children into? Do I really want to risk becoming my mother?” There’s panic in her voice again, so he just kisses her head and squeezes her tightly.

“I know how it feels, believe me. Not the idea of growing a person, obviously. But the idea of raising a child somewhere that just doesn’t seem suited to children. But look at all the kids here, and they have even more over in Arkadia. They’re all healthy and happy, and honestly Clarke, I can’t see you ever turning out like your mom. But if you really don’t want to do this, we have options. I’m not going to force you into this if it’s not what you want,” he says.

“It’s a little late for options, Bell,” she gives him a watery smile. “This isn’t “oh shit I missed my period” pregnant. This is “already well into morning/afternoon/evening sickness.” Why do they call it morning sickness, by the way? I feel like yuck _all the time_ ,” she grumbles. They sit in silence together for a while, until Clarke’s hiccups subside and the sun is well below the horizon.

“Holy shit,” she finally says softly. “We’re gonna be parents.” He hides his grin in her shoulder and slides his hand over her stomach, imagining what it will be like when she inevitably shows. She’s going to look amazing, because she’s Clarke, and she always looks amazing.

“Yeah,” he says happily. “Yeah we are.”

/./

It takes Clarke a week to work up the courage to tell her mother, mostly because she’s still a little in denial and _so fucking scared_ it’s not even funny. Bellamy talks her through it, goes over every scenario they can think of, good and bad, until she’s finally calmed enough to trek over to Arkadia with him. They both agreed this was best to do in person.

Abby Griffin takes the news that she’s going to be a grandmother surprisingly well, despite the fact that she never quite warmed up to the idea of her daughter with “someone like Bellamy Blake”. She actually seems happy, even when they ask her not to tell anyone yet, because they’re waiting until the second trimester to do that, just in case.

Telling Octavia is a whole different story. She’s not over Lincoln, probably never will be. He was it for her, Clarke thinks. In the way that Bellamy is it for her. She hasn’t been with anyone since Lincoln died, instead focusing all her energies into becoming the greatest warrior she can, doubling as an ambassador of sorts between the grounders and the people of the Ark. Bellamy invites her to their place for dinner, which only ever happens when something serious is going on.

Bellamy is the one to break the news to her, and she says she’s happy for them, and she is, but they can all feel the underlying sadness of all that she’s missing out on. She’ll never get to have this conversation with them. Never get to see her children running around camp, teach them the ways of earth. Because she doesn’t want that, not without Lincoln. The three of them share a tearful hug, but after that the tension lightens and Octavia asks how far along Clarke is.

“We’re guestimating around two-ish months by now? We don’t know for sure yet, still waiting on the first ultra sound. But we’re not telling anyone besides you and my mom until we’re out of the first trimester,” Clarke says.

“Smart,” says Octavia. “Not that I think anything bad is going to happen to…it. But just in case,” she rushes. No one has called it the baby yet, and Clarke is secretly grateful, because it doesn’t feel like that yet. She feels bad, but she doesn’t feel that different, asides from constant nausea and general achiness. It doesn’t feel like there’s a small person inside her, and she’s worried that her lack of maternal feelings is a bad warning sign. Her mother assures her that it’s not, that it sometimes doesn’t feel real until you see it for the first time on the ultrasound screen, hear the heartbeat. Sometimes not even until the mother feels the baby moving for the first time.

Mother. It’s odd, to apply that word to herself now. She’s going to be a mother.

/./

The first ultrasound appointment fills them both with nerves like nothing ever has before. They’re going to see their baby. _Their baby_. It’s still such an odd concept, that Clarke is growing a little person inside her that’s half her and half Bellamy. Her mother totes the machine all the way from Arkadia, insisting Clarke doesn’t need to be making “such a strenuous journey.” She puts her annoyance at being treated like an invalid aside because she’s secretly kind of glad to not have to trek all the way there and back. And it feels nice to have her mother on her territory for this. Feels nice to have the home field advantage, as they say. (They being huge nerds, being Bellamy.)

Clarke is more anxious than she’s ever been in her whole life. She feels like she’s going to throw up, and not from the constant morning sickness that’s been plaguing her. They close the clinic an hour early so that they can have as much privacy as possible. Bellamy grips her hand tightly while she settles on the exam table, waiting for her mother to finish setting up the equipment. Clarke thinks he might be even more nervous than her. He’s definitely more excited, though he tries to hide it. She’s still mostly terrified.

Her mother has her lift her shirt up so that she can smear the cool clear ultrasound gel across her abdomen. Suddenly, it all feels too huge, too real. Panic fills her throat and she can’t quite catch her breath. She squeezes Bellamy’s hand as her mother presses the transducer into her stomach and moves it around. It feels like an eternity passes as she tries to get the positioning right, and Clarke looks up at Bellamy to see him intently watching the screen, brows drawn together and jaw tightly clenched.

She can’t look at the black and white screen next to her. It seems ridiculous, but she has a fleeting thought that maybe she’s not actually pregnant, that her mother can’t find it because there’s nothing to find, and this has all been a mistake. She’s _this close_ to just slipping off the table and trying to get them all to pretend this never happened when a strange rhythmic sound fills the room.

It’s a strong, steady beat, almost calming. Clarke finally lets herself look at the tiny screen, and this time she can’t catch her breath for a whole different reason. It’s grainy, because the machine is old and not in the best shape, but there’s a small figure there, a grey and white figure against the black, and _holy shit_ it looks like a baby. Her mother is saying something in the background, but all she can hear is the rhythmic _whoosh_ of the baby’s heart. The head and tiny arms are clearly visible, and she’s not sure what she was expecting, but it wasn’t this. She must be a bit further along than she originally thought.

A million different emotions flood her all at once, and she’s clearly pregnant enough to be hormonal now, so no one should be surprised when she bursts into tears, but they are. Abby immediately turns the machine off and she and Bellamy crowd into her space trying to figure out what’s wrong, but Clarke is focused on the ultrasound screen where her _baby_ just was. It turns out her mother was right, because the second she saw it, it was real, not just an abstract thought or a source of anxiety and nausea. Her maternal instincts kicked in, like the flip of a switch.

She’s scared for entirely different reasons now. The love she feels for her baby is unreal, more powerful than anything she’s ever felt. She already knows she would and will do anything to protect it. If anything were to happen to it, she doesn’t think she could survive that.

“Turn it back on,” she demands. Bellamy gives her a concerned look.

“Clarke, honey, if it’s upsetting you this much I don’t think that’s a good idea. If this really isn’t what you want we have options-” her mother says. Clarke cuts her off sharply.

“No! It’s just overwhelming, I’m not upset. I mean, I am, it’s just a lot to take in. But I’m _not_ crying because I don’t want my baby.” It’s the first time she’s said the words, but they feel completely natural falling from her mouth. “We’re keeping our baby. There are no other options here,” she says firmly. She looks up at Bellamy and he’s looking back at her with so much pride and adoration in his eyes. Abby nods.

“Okay, if that’s what you want sweetheart. Whatever you want to do, I’ll support you.” She turns the ultrasound machine back on and moves the transducer around again until it’s in the right spot. She points out the baby’s head and arms and legs, tells them the heartbeat is strong, and that she would put Clarke at around eleven or twelve weeks along. Bellamy kisses her temple and even though she can’t tear her eyes away from the screen, Clarke knows he’s smiling. “Everything looks good, honey. I’m happy for you.” It’s obvious that she has a lot more to say than that, but Abby’s gotten better over the years at just letting things be. “I’ll give you two a minute alone,” she says tersely, and draws the curtain closed around them.

“That’s our baby,” Clarke says softly. Bellamy grins widely at her, and she’s never seen him this light and unburdened in the whole time she’s known him. She laughs a little in disbelief and wipes away the tear on his cheek with her thumb. He kisses her, and it feels like a promise and a glimpse of the future all at once.

/./

Abby ends up temporarily moving to their camp. She insists that they need a doctor nearby (“a real doctor, Clarke. Janus is good but he’s never been to medical school. No offense, but this is my grandbaby a d I’m not taking any chances”) and she is pretty useful in the clinic on days when Clarke just isn’t feeling up to it. Both her mother and Bellamy try to keep her off her feet as much as possible, which annoys Clarke, because in a few months, she really won’t be able to do much and she wants to make the most of the time she has. She appreciates their concern, but she reassures the both of them at least once a week that she’s still capable of doing simple tasks.

They all feel like they’re holding their collective breath until she makes it out of the first trimester, when she’s most likely to miscarry. By some unspoken agreement, Clarke and Bellamy don’t discuss baby names, or what they think the gender is, and they make no preparations around their cabin. It feels too hopeful.

The month flies by without complication however, and suddenly Clarke is over her morning sickness and has this healthy glow about her, which is something she always thought was over exaggerated. One night while she and Bellamy are lying in bed discussing the council meeting scheduled the next day, Clarke feels a strange fluttering in her abdomen. She completely cuts off their conversation and sits up in bed, hand pressed over the spot she’d just felt movement. Bellamy, of course, freaks out.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it the baby? I’ll go get Abby, don’t worry, just wait here, everything will be fine-” he’s out of bed and halfway dressed before he notices Clarke laughing at him. She’s rolling around on the bed, whole body heaving as she cackles, and he drops the boot he’s holding.

“You’re so dramatic,” she gasps between laughs. “Oh my god, Bellamy. Such a drama queen, this is too good.” He arches a brow at her and frowns.

“Well, what is it?” He demands. She’s calmed down, still grinning up at him from their bed.

“Come here,” she says and takes his hand. She presses it against her stomach. Nothing happens for a moment, and Bellamy looks at her in confusion.

“Clarke, really, what’s-” the fluttering sensation happens again, and Bellamy immediately shuts up. Disbelief and wonder overtake his face and Clarke beams down at him. His hands slide over her stomach, thumbs catching on her shirt and lifting it up, waiting for it to happen again.

“I think he likes your voice,” she says shyly. Bellamy looks up at her.

“He? I thought we couldn’t tell for another two to four weeks?” Clarke bites her lip as her cheeks flush.

“Technically, we can’t, but I don’t know… I just have this feeling it’s going to be a boy.” Bellamy grins and gently kisses right over her belly button.

“Well, whatever they are, they’re going to be the most spoiled baby in the world. Possibly quite literally.” The baby moves again under his fingers, and Clarke runs her hair through his messy curls. She hopes their baby has his hair.

She wakes up a week later to Bellamy between her legs, whispering softly to her stomach.

“Hi, baby. Hey, it’s your daddy. I love you so much little bean. Me and your mom both do. You’re already so loved baby, you don’t even know it yet.” He doesn’t notice when she wakes, so she lies there for a minute, listening to him talk to their baby in the dark of their room. He startles when she giggles at his baby talk and pushes his hair out of his face. “Jesus, Clarke. Way to scare the shit out of me,” he says, but it holds no malice.

“What?” she says innocently. “I was just lying here trying to sleep when you and the little one woke me up. “

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “Didn’t mean to wake you.” Bellamy moves so that he’s lying next to her again. “Do you think we should start telling people? I mean, I know it’s still sort of early, but she’s so active and there haven’t been any problems at all. I have a good feeling about this,” he says. Clarke considers for a moment.

“I think it’s a good idea, yeah. I’m actually kind of excited for people to know. Maybe we start with our friends and then if anyone asks, we tell them? I don’t want to make a big announcement or anything,” she says.

“Sounds good to me,” Bellamy agrees, kissing her softly. “Now go back to sleep, you both need rest.” Clarke can’t bring herself to disagree with the content smile on his face.

/./

They can’t find a good time to tell their friends that they’re expecting, after all it’s not something you can slip into casual conversation. Clarke seizes her chance at the bonfire their camps holds once a month. They’re all settled around the fire, and Monty is passing around his latest batch of wine (even he got tired of moonshine eventually). Raven offers it to Clarke, who looks at Bellamy, grins, and cheerfully refuses. Raven’s eyes widen immediately, even though no one else seems to have caught on yet.

“No!” She exclaims. “No way! Oh my god Clarke, congratulations! Was it intentional or?” Clarke shakes her head.

“Not exactly, but we’re still happy,” she says. Bellamy smirks and pulls her closer as she rests a hand over her stomach. Jasper catches that, and leaps up.

“You’re pregnant!” He shouts. Miller and Monty’s mouths both drop open.

“Yeah, I am,” Clarke laughs. “Honestly, we were surprised none of you figured it out sooner.” Miller congratulates them and hugs Bellamy while Monty and Jasper begin grilling Clarke.

“How far along are you? Is it a boy or a girl? What are you naming it? When are you due?” They have a thousand and one questions, most of which she doesn’t have the answer to. She loves their eagerness though, is glad that their little reveal went over well. She answers as many of their questions as she can, talking until long after the bonfire has died down. She has so much hope for their future.

/./

Weeks pass, and it slowly becomes common knowledge that Clarke and Bellamy are going to have a baby. Trikru actually sends them a gift because Octavia tells Indra they’re expecting. It’s a beautiful, intricately carved rattle, and it starts a flood of other gifts. Clarke decided against the ages old baby shower tradition for this very reason, but people keep giving them things, and it’s hard to turn them down when someone’s taken the time to make them a gift by hand.

Raven makes them a crib, which she and Bellamy sneak into the cabin one day while Clarke is working in the clinic. When she gets home at the end of the day, she sees it sitting by the window in the sunlight and promptly bursts into tears. Bellamy tries to comfort her, but she waves him off.

“It’s just the hormones, Bell I’m fine. Happy tears, I promise,” she assures him with a watery smile.

Monroe knits them tiny sweaters and onesies, and even a pair of booties, which Clarke cries over, because “they’re so small and cute and I’ve never seen any shoes that little”. Monty brings over a new toy he’s invented every few days, which makes Clarke laugh because they baby won’t be able to use most of them for a while after it’s born.  She appreciates the sentiment though, and the fact that he’s taking time out of his day to make things for her baby. He insists loudly that it’s to ensure that he’s the favorite uncle whenever Jasper is around.

Things are so good. Clarke can’t remember the last time she felt this happy.

/./

Bellamy is helping her sort through medicinal herbs one afternoon when out of nowhere he says, “We should get married.” She laughs.

“If that was your proposal, it’s a pretty shitty one.” She makes a note of something on her inventory, then looks up at him. He looks slightly offended. “Oh god, you were serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks petulantly.

“Well for one, we’ve already agreed that neither of us is really in to the whole establishment of marriage. And for another, I’m already having your baby. Is there really any bigger commitment?” She wonders what brought this on, because there’s no way Bellamy is suddenly into the idea of marriage after three years together.

“Exactly,” he says. “You’re having my baby. _Our_ baby. Why shouldn’t we be married?”

“Wick proposed to Raven, didn’t he?” Clarke sighs.

“Maybe, but that’s not why I’m bringing this up. Okay, maybe it is a little bit, but mostly, I don’t know…it seems like a good idea? Why not do the whole thing - marriage, a family. It’s just I never thought I’d have a shot at any of this, and now…” Clarke sets down her things and steps behind him. She wraps her arms around him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Hey, if this is something you really want, we can do it, Bell. But I don’t want you to feel obligated or anything. A piece of paper isn’t going to change how I feel about you.” She kisses his cheek softly. “I’m not going anywhere, promise.” Her leaving is still a sore spot for them, because she’d sort of made a habit of it their first few years on the ground.

 Whenever things got to be too much, or she felt like she was more a burden than an asset, she’d disappear for a few weeks. Usually no more than two months at a time, and eventually they understood that it was her way of coping, but it still stung. The last time she’d left had been shortly after they’d got together, and when she returned, they had a huge fight over it, because he felt like she didn’t trust him enough. They’d actually separated for a few weeks, until they both pulled it together and apologized. Clarke had promised not to up and leave without at least letting _someone_ know she was going, and how long she’d be gone. And Bellamy promised to try and be more understanding of her coping mechanism. She wasn’t leaving because _he_ wasn’t enough, but because she didn’t think that _she_ was enough.

“I do want this. I know we don’t need it, but I think it would be nice for us to do something. Nothing huge, but maybe a simple ceremony or something,” he says. She nods.

“Okay, we can do that. I love you,” she adds, kissing him quickly before returning to sorting and taking inventory.

/./

The ceremony is short and simple, and it provides their camp with the excuse for a huge party, which everyone is down with. Most of Arkadia attends, as well as some of the surrounding tribes. Weddings are few and far between these days, mostly performed for political reasons rather than love.

Her mother convinces them to wear nice clothing and has Marcus perform the ceremony so that she can walk Clarke down the aisle. Bellamy grumbles when they stick flowers in the pocket of his shirt but acquiesces easily enough when he learns that Clarke has been convinced to let the younger girls braid them into her hair. Who knows, maybe it will start a tradition for their camp.

Clarke doesn’t stop smiling once the whole day. Most of the ceremony is to appease her mother, who would prefer a more traditional wedding but is thrilled she’s getting anything from her daughter. Clarke is just happy that everyone is happy for once. It’s been a long time, and they all deserve this. It almost feels too good to be true.

Her cheeks ache at the end of the day, but it’s worth it.


	2. Love You Forever

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this chapter does deal with a late term miscarriage, if that bothers you feel free to ignore this and pretend chapter one is the end of the fic. If you're a masochist like me read on

It turns out she was right. They find out their baby is a girl and has no heartbeat at the same time.

Clarke’s laid back on an exam table in the clinic, a now familiar position. She’s just shy of six months pregnant, and she’s finally getting over some of her anxieties about motherhood. Her pregnancy has become a good thing instead of something dreaded. She and Bellamy are both fidgeting with excitement because she’s far enough along that they’ll be able to determine their baby’s gender.

Abby is training Janus to use the ultrasound machine, so they think nothing of it when it takes longer than usual to find their little bean. They share blinding grins and trade possible baby names back and forth. Bellamy wants Aurelia for a girl and Augustus for a boy. Clarke likes Minerva for a girl and Jacob if it’s a boy, but she doesn’t really care as long as the baby is healthy. So far they’ve just been calling it “bean”, but after today they’ll at least be able to narrow down their list of names.  Janus clears his throat and startles them out of their conversation.

“Well, it took me a minute, but here’s your baby,” he says cheerfully. “It looks like she’s sleeping right now, but-”

“She?” Bellamy interrupts. “We’re having a girl?” He kisses Clarke and it feels like her heart is going to explode. They’re going to a have a little girl.

Janus frowns at the screen and whispers in her mother’s ear, and Clarke’s stomach drops. Her mother gives her a tight smile.

“it’s probably nothing, just give us a minute,” Abby says. Clarke knows that tone all too well, the one she uses when things are going very, very wrong but she wants people to stay calm. Bellamy recognizes it too, after five years fighting her tooth and nail on pretty much every problem they come up against.

“What is it?” He demands. Clarke squeezes his hand and tries to breathe past the lump in her throat. Abby moves the transducer around a bit more, frowning as she does. She says something quietly to Janus, and he nods and draws the curtain around them, so that it’s just the three of them.

“I’m so sorry honey,” Abby starts. She sounds choked up, which is something that Clarke hasn’t seen in a long time. She feels like she’s going to be sick.

“Mom, what’s wrong with her? Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter to us. We don’t care if-”

“Clarke, there’s no heartbeat. I’m so sorry baby, I don’t know what happened. It’s nothing you did, I don’t want you to think that. Sometimes these things just happen.” Clarke swears her heart falls out of her chest.

Nothing feels real, not Bellamy holding her, not her mother’s tears, or her own. Not the fact that her baby has no heartbeat, that she’s _dead_. She feels numb, hollow almost. She barely registers her mother gently wiping her slightly rounded stomach off, or Bellamy helping her up. The shoulder of her shirt feels wet, and when she absently reaches up to touch it she realizes it’s his tears. That shakes her out of her daze.

Her knees buckle beneath her and she falls to the ground. She reaches a hand over her stomach, worried about the baby for a split second before she realizes she doesn’t need to and that – it’s too much. The sound she lets out isn’t human. It’s like a dam breaks and suddenly she’s hysterically crying, overwhelmed with grief and guilt, because she should have _known_. When the baby wasn’t as active the last week or so, she was _relieved_ because she finally got a full night’s sleep. And now she’s carrying her dead daughter inside of her. She’s become a tomb.

Vaguely she realizes her mother sliding a needle into her arm and then everything is in slow motion and she can’t keep her eyes open.

/./

Clarke wakes up hours later, curled in her own bed. She doesn’t remember how she got here or much at all after her mother telling her that her baby has no heartbeat. But she’s not alone. Her head is in Bellamy’s lap and he’s stroking her hair and crying silently. She sits up and wraps herself around him, trying her hardest to ignore the little space between them created by her rounded stomach. He doesn’t respond for a moment, but then his arms slowly tug her closer and he buries his face in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles. “This is all my fault. I should have known, if I was a better mother, I would have known. I’m so sorry Bell I’m so sorry.” She doesn’t know what else to say, so she just keeps repeating that she’s sorry.

This is an entirely new kind of guilt that weighs heavier on her than losing member of the 100, heavier than mount weather, than getting Finn killed and then Lexa. She doesn’t know how she’s going to bear this. Bellamy leans back to look at her with tears in his eyes.

“Clarke, no. This isn’t your fault. There’s no way you could have known.” He looks alarmed, but she knows better. This is her fault.

“But I should have, Bell. I should have known. How could I not know she was dead? She’s _inside me_ and I couldn’t tell. Maybe this is better, because I’d be a terrible mother. I couldn’t protect her.” She lets go of him to touch her stomach. It feels _wrong_ now, knowing that there’s no reason to anymore. Bellamy leans forward and rests his head on hers.

“I promise you, Clarke, this isn’t your fault. We did everything we were supposed to. Sometimes these things just happen, and it’s no one’s fault. It’s fucking terrible, and unfair, but no one could have done anything.” He presses a kiss to her temple. “We’ll get through this, just like everything else, I promise. Together, somehow we’ll get through this.”

/./

Abby lets them have a few days to themselves before she comes to them to tell them what happens next. It’s horrific, to all of them. Clarke is going to have to suffer through labor knowing the end result. She’s going to go through one of the most traumatic events in her life, and then immediately follow it up with another, because there is no light at the end of this tunnel. She’s not going to be rewarded with the sound of her baby’s cry and the sight of her squirming in her mother’s arms. She’s not going to feel her daughter’s warm skin against her own, not going to watch her while she sleeps just to make sure she’s still breathing – because they already know she’s not.

Word spreads quickly around camp, because no one bothers either of them for anything in the days before. They’re immensely grateful when someone removes the crib from their cabin while they’re in the mess hall one night, because seeing it every time they came home was like getting the news all over again. Clarke pretty much hasn’t stopped crying since they found out, but no one finds it odd, knowing that she’s carrying around her dead baby.

They end up having to wait a week until Abby can get all the supplies she needs to induce labor. She offers to get painkillers too, but Clarke refuses because she still blames herself and thinks she deserves to feel every moment of her daughter’s birth.

Her mother shuts down the clinic for the day, tells everyone that if they have any issues Janus is more than equipped to deal with them. She offered to let them do this in their cabin, but both Clarke and Bellamy know that they wouldn’t be able to live there knowing it was the place of their daughter’s birth and death.

In total, Clarke’s labor lasts nine hours. Bellamy doesn’t leave her side for one minute of it, sits behind her and lets her squeeze his hands until they’re white from lack of blood flow. He murmurs quiet encouragement when she feels like giving up, reassures her that she’s strong enough to do this. They both cry when she gives one final push and delivers their daughter. The room is eerily quiet as Abby offers to let them hold her. Clarke nods through her tears and watches her mother clean her baby and tenderly wrap her in a blanket.

When her mother places her daughter in her arms, Clarke is filled with a strange sense of calm. Her baby is beautiful - tiny and too pink, skin slightly translucent. For the most part, though she looks like a normal healthy baby born too soon. Except she’s already losing her warmth and her little lungs aren’t heaving loud cries into the air. Clarke hold her for a long time, stroking her arms and face, holding her tiny hands. She offers her to Bellamy, and he seems almost surprised, but gingerly accepts the small bundle and cradles their daughter like she’s the most precious thing in the world.

“We should name her,” he says softly. Clarke tiredly nods her agreement.

“I know we never talked about it, but I like Ophelia.” Shakespeare’s Ophelia, struggling under the weight of her tragedies. It seems fitting.

“Ophelia is good,” he says. He hasn’t torn his eyes away from her since Clarke handed her over, busy memorizing all the little details while he still can. The cremation is scheduled for the next morning.

They spend hours holding her, until they’re finally ready to hand her over to Abby. Bellamy carries Clarke back to their cabin and crawls in bed next to her. She’s all out of tears, but neither of them sleeps much that night, lying together silently in the moonlight that spills in their window until the sun comes up. Her entire body aches, but her heart hurts more.

/./

After the cremation, Abby gives them a birth certificate with Ophelia’s tiny hand and footprints in the center. Clarke tears up, and thanks her with a tight hug. Bellamy gives her a firm hand shake, which is likely the most physical contact they’ll ever have. They’re also presented with a small clay container with Ophelia’s ashes in it.

Clarke and Bellamy agree they want to spread her ashes somewhere, and when he suggests the beach, she can’t help but think it would be perfect. It’s a two-day journey to the sea, but it’s exactly what they need right now. Having everyone’s eyes on them is just too much. Some time away will help them grieve.

They take one of the rovers, since Clarke is still technically on bedrest. The journey is mostly silent, but they hold hands the whole way, Clarke curled into Bellamy’s side. She sleeps a lot, still exhausted from labor and grief.

The ocean is as beautiful as she remembers, and she feels like she shouldn’t be in awe of its beauty when she’s there to spread her child’s ashes, but it’s inescapable. The salty air and rolling waves fill her with a peace she hasn’t felt in a long time. Bellamy slips his hand into hers as they stand side by side, staring out at the vast open waters and she leans her head on his shoulder.

There’s a little poem her mother used to recite to her when she was little, one that came from an old children’s book, and Clarke thinks it’s perfect for the moment. They wade out until the water is knee deep, and spread their daughter’s ashes. They swirl away quickly, mixing in with the salt water and drifting in a thousand directions.

“I’ll love you forever, I’ll like you for always, as long as I’m living my baby you’ll be.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw an article about how "Love You Forever" was about the author's experience with miscarriage, and then I just...  
> Anyways, kudos/comments appreciated.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay now that the fluff is out of the way, on to chapter 2 and endless angst.


End file.
